《Aster's Cycle》


 Chapter 1 - Driven Out

    The dust was swept away as small wings lifted a little dragon, about half an adult¡¯s arm in length. He darted across the room, his shadow looming over the wooden walls and ancient furniture. A grunt, or a squeak, I¡¯m unsure, but the dragon yelped as I caught it with my hand, his head in a vise and in likely moderate pain.


    ¡°Good morning, Gustaf,¡± I teased, slowly releasing my grip. He remained floating and lightly flapping his wings, his eyes trying to look menacing; but I knew that look. ¡°Come on then,¡± I invited. A smile flashed on his razor, sharp teeth as he careened over to my gut while I pulled him in a hug.


    It was a weird quirk of this odd dragon. But I liked to pet animals, anyway. I didn¡¯t complain. If this particular guy was an animal, that was up in the air for now. I wouldn¡¯t want to rack my brains over it.


    ¡°Care for some tea?¡± I certainly did, and tea there was on the tabletop. Gustaf didn¡¯t respond because he does not know the brilliance of tea. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I don¡¯t have a particular taste for tea. I just felt like having one this morning. I remembered the recipe aria I learned before from a famous teamakist(?) Teamaker(?) and so I tried it.


    Taking a sip, I instantly regretted my decision and spat. It didn¡¯t hit the dragon, fortunately landing on the stone floor -- however, he was threateningly going in for a lick so I saved him and myself from any further agony. That was something I wouldn¡¯t want for myself to witness.


    ¡°Magic is convenient but is a pain in the ass, too,¡± I lamented, rubbing my hands on Gustaf¡¯s temple; him purring like a cat. I do not know if all dragons are like this, but this particular one can make me believe he¡¯s very much alone and will possibly remain single for the rest of his life.


    Having had enough, I stood up from my bed, the pesky dragon in tow, while enjoying the musky scent of the books littered all around my room.


    I picked up a book from just underneath the bed. It practically reeked at this point, but it was an oddly pleasant odor. The book was named ¡°the Grand Concept of Arias,¡± for which I will tell you: I do not have an idea what it could mean, at least not an exact one.


    I have never finished an entire book in my life. Although I have read quite a lot, I mostly skim them and really only look for the information that I need. Quite often, I forget I even bought a book and what I actually learned from it. Call me a dimwit, but it works for me.


    While going through my habit of skimming this particular book for nothing in particular, the pipsqueak¡¯s unlikely strength forced himself out from my now single-armed grip. I instantly lost my balance and fell forward, rolling as I hit the ground. I wanted to look amazing and use the momentum to roll back on my feet, but ended up on my back, dazed and confused.


    The ceiling was high, and a dim chandelier hung from it. A mysterious power could be felt wafting from it, and it felt soothing to anyone in the room. This was my token; those of my family can have one and they can be in different forms. My token represents freedom, although it doesn¡¯t look like that in form.


    The annoying sound of a dragon calling for attention woke me from my daze, and I rolled to my side and looked towards the sound. His tiny arms were pointing at a parchment, dried and brown. I stood up to take it, and as I did, my eyes went wide immediately as I read the heading.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Letter from the King, an emergency request;


    Now that my mind¡¯s awake, I remembered the last thing I said to myself before sleeping.


    Wake up early so you can meet the King!


    The King is a very close friend and I wouldn¡¯t ignore a request from him. I placed the letter inside the inner pocket of my sparkly white robe. My robe had a v-shaped cut through its midsection up until my belly, so I had to wear shaded gray loosely fitted shorts or else I risked either experiencing public humiliation or sparking outrage, the latter being a good outcome but the means will never justify that end. I also liked to wear a tanktop or tunic with muted colors, and today I went with a blackish one.


    I was ready at this point, as one of my passive magics maintain my cleanliness whenever I¡¯m in an idle and ideal state. Call me a cheat, but a magic that doesn¡¯t feel like a cheat isn¡¯t magical enough, in my opinion. Actually, around this area, it¡¯s everyone¡¯s opinion I believe, and so there.


    As for the last leg of my preparation, I looked up towards the chandelier. I pointed my palm as if I tried to reach for it. There was a connection that could be felt between me and the chandelier, almost like it was alive.


    It wasn¡¯t alive though. It simply was the object that carried my magic. But it was much more alive than it was before. It must be the sleep.


    Return.


    The chandelier slowly flashed to white until it turned milky in color, its luminance fading. Eventually, it became viscous; its now liquid form dripping unto my palms. The substance seeped into my pores, filling my entire body with indescribable pain. I hunched as I grabbed my sternum, a clawing, piercing pain stabbing and raking at the very edges of my lungs. Slowly, it flowed towards my core, where it must have been heated to thousands of degrees -- I had to kneel and reel back in pain.


    But I could feel it, the bulk of my power filling up my very being.


    The increase inmagic empowered me. It filled my mind with melancholy, dread, triumph, confidence, glee and apathy. An intense, ironic mix of emotions.


    It was always baffling, the feeling of not being in control of your body but feeling the full alertness of your mind, and till now I find no word to explain it but:


    Helplessness.


    Eventually, my mind and body calmed down, the inordinate magic taking a back seat and I regained control of myself. I had to make sure that I turn this back into a chandelier or some other object that can act as a diffuser or else there¡¯s going to be a problem.


    Taking my mind off of that future dilemma, I tied a white belt over my waist, as unsure an anyone where I got it from (I always wore some kind of belt when I go for this look). It¡¯s my staple and it gets bothersome to change clothes, anyway. It¡¯s like a trademark that doesn¡¯t get annoying so long as you don¡¯t show yourself too much.


    I needed to be powered-up before I gander into the woods where I¡¯ll have to walk a few miles to get to the capital. If the letter¡¯s contents prove true, then I¡¯ll be encountering creatures I¡¯ve never seen before.


    I thought over the contents of the letter and its implications. It spoke of monsters that spawned exponentially over the months, and has since become a major international problem. Every noble house, such as us the Asters, have been called to arms to combat this threat.


    Large animals aren¡¯t that rare in this continent, but it felt like the word monster here have a different nuance. I wondered about the actual characteristics and why the feeling of these two words differed in their weights.


    Then there was a rumble and a mental alert pinged in my head. My house was under attack. Gustaf flew upwards and immediately zoomed past me and towards the exit.


    ¡°Gustaf, don¡¯t rush in!¡±


    There was a shriek that returned for a reply.


    Regaining my thoughts, I immediately thought: monster. It must have felt the magic that briefly was unconcealed when I returned it. I felt a bit anxious, not knowing what to expect, but I moved forward towards the entrance, armed and ready.

 Chapter 2 - Where to?

    A ferocious roar wracked my body.


    It was all I needed to hear to tell me that Gustaf had donned his true dragon form. I rushed towards a large, double-layered door. It was open, but I couldn¡¯t see outside with Gustaf¡¯s threatening bulk hiding the view.


    He was about thrice a man¡¯s size, a flaming mix of orange and black. Horns ran through the back of his spine. His stance stood tall and neck long. The draconic scales seemed sturdy even at a glance. He bared his wings, the muscles supporting it flexed, while his thick tail blocked the entrance. I jumped over the tail and landed to a nice view:


    Gustaf¡¯s menacing scowl against a perfect wall of knights.


    How did I know they were knights?


    First, the crest on their hearts were the symbol of the King¡¯s authority. Their armors weren¡¯t golden; they were an undecorated but pristine, shimmering alloy of adamantium and mithril, the former known for its physical endurance and the other magical. Their gear was custom-fit, and did not in anyway hinder (and probably enhanced) their combat performance. There might even be some magic enchantments.


    Their helmets hid their face, there were only tiny slits for their mouths, noses, and eyes. It must be tough to breathe wearing that, but I didn¡¯t see it affecting them. It must be what they meant when the Royal Knights¡¯ value on integrity. Unless you ask their names, really know them, or are lucky, it¡¯s almost impossible to tell who¡¯s who for all these lower ranking gentlemen. It was a test of their integrity, so to speak.


    To be honest, it¡¯s a dumb idea but they seem to be doing a perfect job seeing as they have us all surrounded in great numbers. Their grayish capes fluttered with the wind, and their stances and aura talked violence, although the fear and loathing is palpable, too.


    There was also another super important thing that caught my attention.


    I shivered.


    Around me were buildings that towered even the tallest titans of myths. Their walls and foundations, most likely, were made of precious metals such as those found in the armors of these scary (and scared?) warriors of valor. Did this mean that they were not so precious anymore?


    The towers formed vertical lines touching the skies, each shape more elongated or baroque every time. There was almost no logic to it, but I bet the folks living over there could give a thousand explanations why it was made that way -- and we¡¯re not even talking about the bullshit answers yet.


    Mindful that now was not the time to know whether my sense of direction was evolved enough not to be mazed traversing this travesty, I looked back towards the knights, thinking over how to mitigate this brewing bout between them and a raging hot Gustaf. If they insist, well¡­


    They¡¯re toast, so to speak. ¡°Hey,¡± I called out to Gustaf with a whisper.


    He snarled, steam rising from the corners of his mouth. The knights flinched. I also flinched but it was to hold a chuckle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea to get them all riled up. Look,¡± I beckoned towards the structures and the flying wagon-lizard--like contraptions in the sky. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you want to just mate with one of them? A lot less trouble and it''s good for your mental health,¡± I jested in good fun, smiling playfully. I could see him trying to stifle a laugh of his own. Such a good sport, this dragon. Just don¡¯t catch him during his actual tantrums.


    The knights were wary about our silent conversation. I wouldn¡¯t blame them since I just pointed towards their direction, although upwards. In hindsight that was thoughtless but things must move on.


    ¡°Say,¡± I said.


    ¡°How would you like for this to continue?¡± I stared intently at Gustaf, patiently waiting for an answer. He was weird but he was a smart dragon.


    There was a glint in his eye.


    I smiled.


    A knife imbued with magic just flew past his eye, almost hitting him. He flinched. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± I shouted, the both of us gearing into action.


    So that¡¯s where the glint came from. Well, not that it mattered. It wouldn¡¯t have scratched him, much less be a bother.


    We flew and gradually, we were out of sight, our escape simple but effective.


    As we continued upwards, I couldn¡¯t help but be amazed and irritated by these towers. There were a few times when I would almost hit an eccentrically placed portion of a tower here and there, hidden by the clouds. It was a good thing I monitored Gustaf¡¯s flight closely, as he is obviously more than a master when it comes to air travel.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    We flew in a frantic, but controlled pace, and when we were high enough it allowed us a better view of the sprawling cityscape. There wasn¡¯t just these towers - in fact, they were just a small but domineering part of the types of structures scattered disorderly about the city.


    A mismatch of grand colors, from the creamiest blue to the darkest pink, all laid bare, some asking for attention. Some were obviously small and meant for residential purposes, but there were larger ones, smoke spewing from openings on their roofdecks.


    Tetrahedrons, hexagons, and even three large domes, it was a city of wonder and irritance that I¡¯d like to get acquainted with a bit more¡­ alas, that wasn¡¯t possible right now.


    Hearing almost inaudible gasps almost similar to the swooshing wind, Gustaf and I were awarded a closer look at the lizard-like wagons ferrying panicking passengers. So that was the thing.


    There was a magic that encompassed the contraptions; I¡¯d guess it was the magic powering their flight. Just the sheer amount of power behind it was enormous, uneconomical even, and I frowned. I wasn¡¯t totally sure if the actual magical result is something to be proud of, but the innovation of automating flight itself was something worth mentioning.


    How did I know it was automated? There wasn¡¯t a soul powering the magic.


    The wagons were made of either wood or adamantium. Each wagon had varied lengths and could house a number of passengers (though some wagons could only house around two or three, and are decorated in a more flashy fashion). Seats were placed across and in-front of each other, and depending on width each row could have at most three seats.


    I wondered how they dealt with rain, but seeing as they have little reaction to the erratic wind and some others looking confident amidst the curious dragon¡¯s gaze, it must be that there are protective magic in place for situations like this. Although, they must not realize how curious this dragon can be, and how he¡¯s no cat.


    We didn¡¯t take long to observe, and soon found ourselves safely out of the pesky range of the city and in more forest dense areas. I noticed that the few miles to the capital that I talked about earlier were filled to the brim with structures now. Did this mean that they extended the capital or was this a newly developed area? Did that mean our jurisdiction was an important one for it to house all those abominations?


    That made me feel disgustingly proud. Then I realized:


    ¡°What about our house!?¡± Sis is going to kill me!


    Why do I vaguely feel that Gustaf was happy about this?


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°Captain,¡± a nondescript knight-scout gave his salute, placing his left hand behind the tail of his spine and his right on the sternum. ¡°The anomalies¡­ they¡­¡± the hesitance in the man irked Alexander Ruth, and his gaze reflected a growing impatience. The scout¡¯s right hand shook in response.


    ¡°They what?¡± the general¡¯s voice was no different from a deep rumble, and he could see the line of sights of everyone slowly moving away from the skies and towards him. It only served to anger him more.


    ¡°Why is everyone¡¯s eye stuck to the clouds? Have you gotten charmed, lad?¡± he asked sardonically, the scout gulping before squeaking through a reply. ¡°They were able to¡­¡± he took a deep breath. The general didn¡¯t like where this was going.


    ¡°They escaped,¡± a calm, silvery voice rescued the scout from behind him. A tall and athletic knight approached. He did not wear a helmet, and it revealed his jet-black, messy hair. The general frowned, but he trusted this knight enough to know that there was more to this anomaly. He lamented being late but the knight¡¯s captain can¡¯t just leave the King¡¯s side nilly willy.


    The general gave a passing glance towards the scout and gestured for him to leave. Lucas put a hand on the scout¡¯s shoulder, giving him a silent reassurance. The scout nodded frantically and left.


    ¡°Lucas,¡± the General greeted monotonically. ¡°Salutations, General Ruth,¡± Lucas¡¯ lips thinned into a smile, but his deep, black, sharp eyes were pensive. The man was never known to physically salute to anyone, and the general was never bothered by trivialities like that anyway, so he let Lucas be. ¡°Do you mind giving an explanation? How could your unit allow them to escape?¡±


    Judging by the scout¡¯s earlier brief description, the anomalies must have been living beings, thought the General.


    ¡°There were two anomalies,¡± Lucas put a hand on his chin as he said, sinking deeper into his thoughts. ¡°One was a dragon,¡± he revealed.


    ¡°A dragon?¡± The general raised a brow. There were a lot of so-called dragons roaming around the continent, and none of them deserved that moniker. ¡°Are you saying that your unit failed to apprehend a dragon?¡± His eyes glared at Lucas, unbelieving that the 1st banner could fail such a simple task.


    ¡°That was what I first thought, but¡­¡± he snickered. ¡°Even I couldn¡¯t find it in myself to step foot inside that dreadnought¡¯s range,¡± he said, motioning slightly through every word, an untold mix of thoughts must have been grating at him.


    The general¡¯s glare turned into contemplation. ¡°Dreadnought? Are you saying it was a gigantic one?¡± Of course, there existed ¡°dragons¡± with sizes half as tall as the building¡¯s around this area, but they still didn¡¯t warrant the fear associated with the dragon¡¯s of olden tale.


    Lucas shook his head. ¡°No, general. In fact, he was quite small compared to the giant draconic lizards found on the dunes. This dragon¡­ it was its magic that was humongous. I could not even begin to compare him to¡­ that¡¯s wrong -- it was a being of magic himself. It wasn¡¯t touched by magic; it is.¡±


    There was an undertone of interest in Lucas¡¯ voice. The general ignored it. It was normal for the young upstart to have such vague inclinations. Lucas may do as he please so long as it doesn¡¯t affect the General¡¯s work.


    But should he be surprised now? By the look on Lucas¡¯ face, there might be more to this than meets the eye.


    ¡°So, anything else?¡± The general said, at the end of his wits.


    ¡°They flew away.¡±


    ¡°They? Were there a number of dragons?¡±


    Lucas shook his head. ¡°No,¡± he answered simply.


    When General Alexander Ruth heard the next few words that clarified everything, his body trembled. The implications are endless-


    -and unpredictable.


    ¡°He flew, too.¡±


    The King must know.

 Chapter 3 - Questions

    The flight above the forests took already a few hours at top speeds, so my patience was already thinning away. We saw nothing for miles, and eventually I grew tired; my mana and mental capacities all but dry. ¡°Let¡¯s stop for a bit,¡± I panted through my words while Gustaf immediately dived under me and caught my falling body.


    I landed safely on his back, still reeling from the mana burn. My insides were being torn apart, both from lacking in available mana and the overdrive my body was doing in order to recover more mana from the environment. I shook in pain, the pain almost lulling me into unconsciousness, until a warm embrace cuddled my entire body.


    Propping my eyes open, an orange flame bathed me in its gentle heat, oozing me into relaxation. I took even deeper breaths as I calmed. Flight was never okay to sustain for too long, and no one was an exception; in fact, it was a similar thing throughout the more¡­ magical magics, so to speak. It was why I could consider the flying wagons as the mark of an incoming masterpiece. It just needed some more work.


    Unaware of the passing time, it was midday when we finally arrived somewhere. In the middle of the woods lay a three-storey pub. High-quality, sparkly clean grayish, wooden walls flanked it, and the roof was gabled, elongating upwards in an immaculate reddish brown finish.


    I yanked myself out of Gustaf¡¯s regenerative aura miles above the air and landed clumsily. The entrance was a simple door. As I opened it, I was greeted with a¡­ normal looking pub. A few feet away from the door was the bar, with neatly lined seats and a colorful bunch of customers. Some wore nasty looks, others were nasty in creative ways. At the bar serving drinks was a bulky waiter; he had a peculiar finesse in his movements. His clothing were ordinary black and white bartending clothes.


    There were larger tables lined up around the pub, and the place was filled to the brim with customers. A lot of them were drinking, drunk or smoking. The smoke was getting in my eyes and I was getting irritated, but I kept my cool since I didn¡¯t want any more unexpected outcomes.


    They carried weapons; some obviously enchanted with magic. I grew mildly curious, but thought to set another time for such a study. What¡¯s important was that I don¡¯t make too much of a commotion, if possible.


    I was still feeling the effects of the mana burn from before. Nobody would want to fight tired, and I certainly didn¡¯t have any intentions of starting one. This was a bunch that was ready to explode, and quite frankly I didn¡¯t want to clean up after them. I inhaled to loosen myself up before entering, feeling that my innate connection with Gustaf weakened while he bore his smaller form, hiding behind the trees.


    I approached the bar, giving the waiter a silent nod. ¡°Got something to eat?¡± I asked. He had a hulking body, almost like a large bull¡¯s. His squared face had some thick, brown sideburns and a large jaw, while his brown hair was slicked back stylishly.


    The waiter¡¯s thick lips slightly smiled and gestured towards his left, where the unreadable menu was written. Whoever wrote this, his handwriting sucked. ¡°The special ain¡¯t so bad,¡± he commented, understanding of my inability to read hieroglyphics; his voice was a thick baritone, and the look in his eye confident and locked with mine. I smiled happily. ¡°Great,¡± I playfully slammed my hand on the bar. ¡°I¡¯ll have that and a beer.¡±


    My order solicited a grunt from the waiter. He tapped a few times in the sill of the window where orders are placed. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t take a while, son,¡± he said. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    If I were somebody else, I¡¯d be perplexed. This waiter¡¯s visage was something else, and I don¡¯t think his body is from a bloodless past. ¡°Where do you hail?¡± he asks.


    ¡°From here.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I thought so... but you have brownish skin. Even I don¡¯t have them,¡± he said, pointing at his hair. He must be from the south. ¡°You could have come from elsewhere,¡± he clarified. A brown skin tone was rare amongst my people, but naturally occurring. Though it did come with a bit of scrutiny.


    ¡°Any chance I could be half?¡± I asked.


    There was a dumbfounded look on his face before he laughed out loud, earning looks from a few of the customers. He didn¡¯t seem to mind. ¡°Why not?¡± he asked, confused but still holding a laugh. I myself was a bit confused with his reaction. Then, an idea seemed to push the waiter into inquiry. ¡°Are you speaking of the old Ambrosian purity horseshit?¡±, he said with unbelievable class and grace.


    Woah. Now that was more aligned with his bodily image; it combined really well with his panache. I wondered how he was able to curse with that kind of flow.


    I nodded back, but with a question in mind. ¡°The old?¡± Now that he¡¯s mentioned it, doesn¡¯t it seem a bit too sudden that our house, in the middle of nowhere, was suddenly surrounded by difficult looking structures?


    Then the realization hit me. I shook my head.


    It was an honest mistake.


    I don¡¯t really believe that there are strange things in this world. Especially with magic around.


    However, people cling to foundations and laws for good reason. They¡¯re more than just guideposts, they¡¯re the basics for survival. As such, people tend to believe certain things as being permanent¡­ eternal. It¡¯s what¡¯s necessary to survive.


    Well, I¡¯m one of the people who believe that it¡¯s not so. I have reason to - a really good one.


    Affirming my beliefs in my head, I rubbed my hair and nodded to myself, convinced that I wasn¡¯t entirely at fault since my belief system basically automates my reaction to these sorts of things - and my reactions are never ¡®what the fuck?¡¯. So it stands to reason that I¡¯m only somehow surprised - not tremendously.


    Oh and, this has happened before.


    The waiter shrugged as I internally concurred with my values; why so, I¡¯m not sure.


    ¡°Order up!¡±


    Unable to hold back a slight chuckle, the waiter went towards the window and grabbed a sizzling plate of steak. I munched down on my food, feeling every bite reinvigorate my fatigued body. ¡°What¡¯s this place called, then?¡± I asked as I chewed, not bothering to be mindful of my etiquette as I was starving. The place looked to be some sort of hangout - probably also an inn.


    Not only that, since it was brimming with people, it wasn¡¯t wrong to think the place was popular/


    ¡°It¡¯s an adventurer¡¯s pub.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, not really okay with his answer and unsure how to react. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure about what an adventurer¡¯s supposed to be - but I was asking for the actual name of the place.¡±


    The waiter was confused.


    ¡°They call it the Pub to make it easy. No actual name. I personally think it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± he said sternly. I didn¡¯t know what was up with his sudden uptight attitude but I chalked it up to him not thinking this was a very tantalizing topic.


    As I ate, he watched me with an even sterner gaze. ¡°This part of the service?¡± I said teasingly.


    ¡°Son, why do I feel no magic from you?¡±


    Here come the questions.